All Ilya Kuryakin

Mission: Headache Run Lock Down

Destination: Local area not yet discovered

Objective: Secure all ice cream source samples and points of possible adventure

Agents: Munkay, K1, K2, The Jakes, sometimes Eli


First Destination: Artsy/Craftsy/Animal store:

Did not linger long at this destination. Was reprimanded for blowing the shop's wooden loon whistle that was available for sale. Agent K1, in self defense, stared right at the counter monkey and let fly his own loon impersonation, having mastered the technique during a camping mission years before. His call did not attract a loon from the inside of the store, but the boys fifth grade teacher from the local elementary. Almost aborted mission right there due to school room fash backs. Ice cream cones were inhaled in parking lot before reaching the jeep. Discovered leaning forehead against hot metal exterior of vehicle helps brain freeze.

Second Destination: Gemoligists art studio

Infiltrated the little store as quickly as possible and encountered the proprietor, who goes by the name Steven, and was disguised as mid fifties man of questionable sexuality. All in black and bedecked and bedazzled in precious gems and jewelry, it was my youngest son, K2 that won the mans alliance with his mood ring. After an hour an a half of interigation, we had learned more information than we thought possible about minerals, fossils and rocks. I took away with me one gorgeous pair of jade and silver earrings, a fosilized sharks tooth and five free crystals plus a good friend, which was acquired buy K1's final question, "But which rock is YOUR favorite?"

Fourth Destination: Hidden Dentists Studio Under the Guise of Ice Cream Store.

We cracked this case when we realized the malt machine sounded like a dentists drill and our drinks caused us a sleepy and calm sensation. Also Eli pointed out Dr. Frozen Dairy's white coat should have been an apron. I may have lost all track of time while there, and one of the Jakes claims the filling in his back molar hurt afterwards.

Third Destination: Local Artists Water Color Studio Of Bad Landscapes And Clothes Line Senery:

We quickly besieged the owner right away with our number and youth. Was told she catered to only serious art patrons as we filled her shop. K2, (who had pained an oil on canvas of Vincent Van Gough's, "Stary Night" for his art and academic school fair) replied with the proper response, "Thats ok, we only like serious art", upon our speedy get away.

Fourth Destination: Malt Shop

Secured the area promply and numerous samples were seized and consumed. We were smart and left our vehicle 8 blocks away at the nearest parking lot as too throw any possible trackers off our trail. Very effective as we could not find our way back.

Fifth Destination: Joseph Wolf Historic Cave and Brewery

No better environment for a group of pre-adolescent males. I have indeed trained them well as no matter how art I tried, I was unable to lose a single one of them in the maze of dark cold underground tunnels. High point of the tour: hearing the boys chant, "chug chug chug chug", in unison while exploring off the beaten path. *Mothers disclaimer- I do not nor will I ever encourage any irresponsible drinking behavior, especially from under age minors, but the sight of a group of boys pretending to be a beer train in an old cave brewery was just funny.*

Conclusion: Local area is full of untapped thrill a minute resources, local culture and tasty frozen concoctions. Mission accomplished.

Conversations With Harlan

Pick axe to my tongue
lunch ladies opposing me
rosterfarian last resort
not so crazy
more like short

Take your drugs Harlan
pop those pills
prescription skitzo
not weak to medicate
do it do it
no crowbait
(caw- caw)

Try to change things
head into a wall
curled under my desk
fetal position flow
screaming foodgasim
whoa

Take your drugs Harlan
pop your pills
prescription skitzo
do it do it
no crowbait
(caw-caw)

In the same foxhole
worried through
another sleepless night flight
I'm just saying
this is my playground

chorus

NASA's extended power
forensic suspect
turkey bites
hits the spot search
I may be wrong
but I think I think right.

chorus


Harlan is the night manager who resembles Bill Murry in Caddyshack and has pressure issues. Rather handsome in a tinfoil hat.

Unfinished Posts

All Ilya Kurakin
Elena's Thooth Brush Holder
Advise Never Taken
No, I'm Romona
An Alternitive Exoeriance
Today the First Day of Spring
One Day on the Way to the Morge
Saving Grace
This Year
The Other Stone
He Says, She Says...Nothing
Trapped
Wednesday Night
Fights Like a Girl
Higher Asperations
A Rose By Any Other Name
Sweet Emotion
In Other News

There now I must finish at least one. As soon as I find some time.

Semi Dairy Retirement

I wasn't using them anymore so I packed them away. Tucked out of sight and out of mind. Didn't even figure they were missed, being more trouble than good. But today I brought them out for a viewing. How I had forgotten the power cleavage holds? Faces may launch a thousand ships, but boobies will move mountains. By earthquakes.

When my boys were of a certain age, where my girls became a distraction to their friends, out came the jogging bra's and baggy sweatshirts. I said goodbye to my showy femininity. On this hot summer day, I broke them out anyway. I said hello shorty tank top. Has been a long time since they have seen the sun. My Hubby took one look at me and asked if it was his birthday.

The lovely young gentleman, at the department store jumped over the counter to offer me help today. When I told him I was merely browsing, not sure if I wanted a DVD for my kids, he walked me over to the children section, to help me make my selection. I have walked past the same man, on my way to pick up my prescriptions for three years now and he has never so much as look me in the eye. Not that he did today either.

On my next stop, work, I walked in, not in my usual a sexual uniform, and not wearing my hair back in a severe bun, and stood looking over the upcoming shedual. My district supervisor, who has yet to remember my first name, the man who sees me almost every other day, today shook my hand and introduced himself. At least to my chest. Strange men whom I have never noticed before, appeared out of the wood work. My assistant chef asked me if I knew how blue my eyes are. I have stared into his face for the past three months. I hardly had to lift a finger today.

The kid at the grocery store bagged my food and carried out to my jeep for me. It was a bag your own store.

How could I forget the power of breasts? I did receive disapproving looks today only from other women. My top was not that low, infact it would be considered modest to some. Is it a true that woman do indeed dress for other women's approval? I do want to be admired for my skills and brains above all else. All else will (mostly) go back in the closet. I do have a garage appointment for my jeep this week.

Bed Side Manor

Having been thrown the question, "What is on your bedside table?", by Professor Batty, author of Flippism Is The Key, http://flippistarchives.blogspot.com/, I must first clarify that indeed, I have no bed side table. Reason being, after the fire that demolished my home, I was forced into designing and decorating our new home from the ground up, in three months. I am now taking my own sweet time in picking out my bedroom furniture. And it is my excuse to not attaching and committing to solid objects. That does not stop me from being a voracious reader however, so I do have piles apon piles of reading material around my bed. It is my common practice to be reading at least three books at any one time. I am however horrible at picking out books and finishing them,in a timly manor, unless it is just too good to put down. I cannot remember titles or authors either, unless it is a cookbook. Those I memorize. Growing up in the border boonies, I read every available book in the school and town library's, bookmobile and even ordered books throughout the mail- order library. I was only allowed to order three books at a time but I figured out, if I timed it correctly, with my next shipment of books coming in three postal days, and I used booth my sisters names when filling out the order card, I could get fresh books almost every day. I read my sisters collage books when she brought them home at end of term. I read until my eyes were too blurry to see the words. These are what's piled up next to me now,

The Patron Saint of Liars, by Ann Patchett. I'm currently on page 68, it is marked by tears.
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, by J.K. Rowling. Page 27 is marked with K2's summer baseball shedual.
The Bible ,Life Application Study Guide, by 66 different authors. Maybe less as some of the men who wrote it wrote more than one chapter or book. The Song of Psalms written by by David before he became king is marked by a note book slip of paper with I Heart U Mom written on it.
Blue Shoe by Anne Lamott. Page 108 is marked by a Minneapolis Art museum map.
A Cossetta Event Menu. There is a splotch of armaretto gellato on the back cover.
Hazelden A Spiritual Odyssey by Damian McElrath, Ph.D. Never been cracked.
Savoring France by Williams-Sonoma. A Half Price Books sales receipt marks "Moules Farcies" on page 187.
The Life of Pi by Yann Martel.That booked was strange and disturbing. Read it in one day.
Giants in the Earth by O.E. Rolvaag Page 427 is marked by my unfinished poem, "Cowboy Roy, My Mellon Eating Joy."
Barefoot Contessa Parties by Ina Gardner. Drool Marks Every page.
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. Page 642 is marked with a grocery list that reads, milk, catfood, coffee beans, rosemary. On the back of the list my Hubbys handwriting says, "Get your nose out of this Commi book and go make me some money woman!" Page 819 has a slip of paper with his hand writing that says," NOW!"
Jokes To Go, A collaboration of one liners by Judy Brown. Funniest joke by Rodney Dangerfield, "I met my wife in a bar. What a surprise; I thought she was at home with the kids."
Servsafe Haccap 2005 FDA Food code essentials book by the National American Health Department. Favorite food borne illness; Anisakis simplex, caused by low grade improperly cooked sea food. The reason I so like it is it's symptoms are very obvious. Severe abdominal pain, cramping, vomiting, nausea, tingling or tickling sensation in throat, vomiting or coughing up worms.
Poems by E. E. Cummings. Favorite line, "The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches."
Catalogs from Room and Board and Alto Avartti, Penzey Spice, Trek, Victoria Secrets, and North County Skijourney, Art suppliers Warehouse.
Wintergeen Oil
A paddle hair brush.
My wrist brace.
a bowl of pistachio nuts with one green plastic army man with rifle raised over his head

Under my bed, behind hidden behind the big box from Ingalbretsens and the dust bunnies;
One half eaten five pound box Gadiva Chocolates left over from Christmas
The video Tape, "How to Belly Dance". (I tried it once and was laughed at by my boys.)
That joke gift from hubbies co-workers I enjoy so much.
A slingshot.
Blow Him Away by Marcy Michaels. Closest thing to a self help book I have ever bought and the reason for the sling shot.
The Complete Illustrated Kama Sutra edited by Lance Dane. Inscription in the front cover reads:"Happy Valentines 2003 to the best lover in all the world, Jullio my sizzling Meat Wad."

Actually Spoken To Me At The Rehab

"What's that? Carrots and broccoli mixed with cauliflower? Can I just have the carrots with just a little cauliflower. Maybe a two to one ratio. If you could pick them out for me with a smaller spoon. No broccoli. Don't let any touch my plate. No start again. That almost looks green."

"My son? Oh he is now ummm, ugh, nineteen. Maybe. But I placed him in a home when he was, uh, fourteen. He's got A.D.D. and I don't know what else. Stupid home messed him right up."

"Can you run my plate through the dishwasher for me? I only eat off my plate. That will sanitize and kill all the germs, right? Don't let anyone else eat off it."

"Gay Break, what is that? Never heard of it. Gay break? GAY BREAK? Oh, D. A. Y. Break. The day break program. Sorry I said gay break Munkay. Are you Munkay? How do I say your name? Munkbe? Mugbe? Oh M.U.N.K.A. Y."

"Asper-grass. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Asper- grass. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Oh ,an I love calling asparagus Asper-grass! Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha."

"I stepped on the cord of vacuum this morning. No it wasn't plugged in. But it sure upset my system. I've been off all day."

"If you want, and get me a pattern, I'll sew you a real nice dress. If my wife lets me use her machine. Then you will smile more."

"No, I need to start my day with only protein. Everything else ferments in my belly and slows me down."

"I got diabetes after I lost my leg when when I was driving drunk. Now I am really a messed up sick bastard."

"I can monitor everything from my room here. Never have to set foot outside my door."

"suicide is my most viable option now. I just enjoy torturing myself."

"I love ham. Where does it come from?"

And these were with the councilors, not the patients.

Semaphore Invasion

They started appearing shortly after the snow left. Popping up unannounced out of no where. The first one caught me off guard and threw me by surprise, it really did. The green light at the traffic semaphore production factory must be logging in the overtime.

I know the roads of my community like the back of my own hand. There I was in my jeep, mind elsewhere, as I drove on auto pilot, humming along with my music, talking with my kids, and eating fast food when the first new stop sign emerged with its regal authority. Always being one to take direction well, I put my foot on my brake, french fry midway to my mouth, and asked the redundant question, "What's that?" "Mom", my youngest kid answers from the back seat, "that's a stop sign. See, S.T.O.P.", patiently as if it was I who were the child. I continued to sit motionless and marvel at this envision of my roadway until the honk of the a horn from the cars lining up behind me, reminded me that stopping is only the first part of the stop and then go sequence the sign commands.

Seams as this was the first sign of a herd that were to follow. They are now popping up every where like wild beasts infringing on my ability to speed. And they are bringing with them their tougher big brother, the traffic light.

I was good with the new blinking warning light over the pedestrian walkway in front of my children's school, but it should have stopped there. They are breeding and appearing everywhere. Next street over, it is a "Slow Children" sign. The same families have lived on that road since we moved in here, eighteen years ago. Did it take them until now to realize they had ball chasers in the vicinity? The kids are of legal age now.

I was twenty minutes late for work today because I had to wait for the light at the end of my driveway to turn green. During the night, a light was put up outside my bathroom door. I peed my pants waiting for the right of way.

I would rant more on the intrusion of my motional advancement, but I want to beat the traffic. I have discovered if I make a series of right hand turns, (legal in this state at a red light,) through my children rooms and their bathroom, instead of waiting to attempt a left turn at the top of the stairs, I avoid most of the rush hour dinner traffic leading into the kitchen.

You Tell Me

Is it wrong of me,

To send a copy of my ode to our gardener, "Julio the Meat Wad" to my hubby? Especially when we have no Gardner?

To do exaggerated impersonations of co-workers when they are right in front of me?

To continue to tell my children stories of being raised by wolves on the Canadian border even after my sister busted me and told them the truth. Or did she?

To have the check out clerk at the grocery store weight my bananas then break off two of the bananas and weight them again to make up for the ones I ate in the store?

To not make a single appointment before eleven a.m. ever because I can't be bothered to be up and dressed by that time?

To turn down all invitations to pot-luck gatherings because if I cook one more stinking thing my hands will form permanent fists?

To call my cat Chub-Chub or Mongo Palousa but become intensely offended when my kids try to jiggle my bingo-wings? (Bingo wings- the loose skin that hangs on under arms of elderly ladies- NOT me)

Not answer the phone or door, even when I am home, just because I don't feel like it. (This drives some of my friends nuts. If I have done it to you, too bad. Do not take it personally.)

To eat salad for breakfast and cereal before bed?

T head to the beach instead of the lawnmower when it is hot and my grass is longer than everyone in the neiborhoods put together?

To sing Robert Palmers "Simply Irresistible" loudly in front of hubby when ever carrying shopping bags into the house? ("She's so fine, there's no telling where the money went...Sing with me honey..")

To not want to be called Mom be my husband. I hate that. I am not his mom. He may instead refer to me as Hot Momma. My kids can even call me something other than mom. I call them by their given names not just the title, son.

To tell the comedian turned actor, the one who was once married to that female comedian turn talk show hostess nutcase, "You have nice skin?", and not recognize him?

To do the Mel Brooks line in blazing Saddles, "Work, work work, work. We gotta protect our phony baloney jobs gentlemen", cross eyed on my way out the door every day?

To forgo sending my kids to camp in lew of packing them off to "Flappy Aunty's Learnatorium and Day Spa Colatic" for the summer?

To plan our annual pilgrimage across the state line to buy the good, illegal, blow all digits to smithereens, explosives and include my innocent young children against the chagrin of my boy scout badge wearing, never break a rule, ex special agent military cop in the service, hubby?

To threaten Hubby not to let him set off a single sparkler if he does not let me use his truck as my fire cracker toting mule?

Entertain myself with useless lists?